100 Oneshot Challenge
by Jiay
Summary: Prin Pardus's 100 oneshot challenge.
1. 1  Injured

**This is my submission to Prin Pardus's 100 one-shot challenge. **

**This has some reference to my other story – THE FROST. But you don't need to read this to understand it, this might actually be a bit of a spoiler – especially for some of the chapters I have planned.**

**Anyway, Enjoy. **

A dying cry rose in the night, carrying eerily on the wind. Silver moonlight swathed the pale ruffled fur of a white cat in its light. Its limbs were curled awkwardly beneath it, crimson staining its throat and belly. Filth streaked its matted pelt, speaking of a struggle.

While it seemed lifeless, a faint breath stirred in its chest. Its eyes remained shut although its bloodied tail twitched once weakly.

A rustle disturbed the night, a sleek black figure emerged from the undergrowth. The white cat's body stiffened. A lean she-cat stood over him, extending a glossy black paw towards him. Spitting, the white cat's neck arched from the ground. His eyes wide, and were a blazing molten copper. His glistening fangs bared, a low throaty hiss surfaced from his maw. The black cat recoiled, and he sank exhaustedly to the ground. The she-cat advanced warily, and nudged him with a paw. The white cat growled quietly in his throat, his eyes glazed and blinded with pain.

"I will help," The she-cat whispered gently. She touched her nose lightly to his bloody flank. "But you need to move from here". The white cat either ignored her or did not hear, his body remaining slumped on the damp forest floor. His eyes were clenched closed, a shiver racked through him.

"Move" she growled softly, frustration and the wavering tone of panic etched in her voice. Her eyes glanced to the gloomy darkness of the bushes. She batted him with a paw, claws sheathed. The white cat did not even spit, oblivious to her. Twisting her head she grasped his ruff in her jaws, trying to lift him from the ground but he sank heavily in her teeth – too heavy for her to drag. She hissed in aggravation, tail lashing behind her. Defeated, the she-cat settled beside him and gently licked his bloodied fur.

But she never took her eyes off the ominous darkness of the shadowy forest, watching for anything in the soundless night.

...

He remembered them barely, hazy memories clouding his mind. The pain was like a jagged tongue of fire down his pelt, something real he could clutch onto, to stop himself from tumbling into the icy numbing blackness that he knew was death. The pain blocked out everything.

But what if he just let himself go? Perhaps death would welcome him, and then he could escape the blazing flare of hurt coursing down his body. He would go to starclan surely? He wasn't a bad cat...

The memory came to him like a glaring shard of light through the darkness, jolting him out of deaths chilly embrace.

_Cats... cats filled a clearing. They gathered about a huge knuckle of stone thrust from the earth. A single cat perched on top of it, his body held proudly before the crowd of cats. He was a large white tom, with scorching copper eyes. But there was a trace of pain flickering in the fire of his eyes. _

"_My clan! We have suffered so long... I believe what we did was right. Necessary to save our kits, our mates and loved ones." he cried. The cats before him remained silent, but dipped their heads respectfully – agreeing with him. _

"_We wouldn't have been able endure the brunt of Cinderclan and Frostclan's fury for long, they may have our home – but they will not have us. We will make a new life, one where the only clan will be Beechclan. Where we can live in peace, a proud life."_

_But then one cat hissed in the crowd. "So, you are proud that we ran like cowards! What will the enemy think of us, not even trying to battle like true warriors for our territory but turning our tails and fleeing?" _

"_So you would have us all be slaughtered so that our pride could remain intact Blackfang?" The white cat growled at him. Blackfang did not cringe under his fiery gaze, but stood amongst the cat and spat back up at him. _

"_You are pathetic! Driving your own clan out of its lands because you were afraid, but frightened that you will be scorned if you were to flee alone during battle. So you turn us out and hide amongst us. You are a wretched coward I say. Do you not think us worthy! We would proudly fight to defend our home!" The crowd began to whisper; their hushed murmurs seemed to approve of Blackfang's outrage. _

"_You sit up there believing that we will not see through your pretence of good-will to your fear. That we will simply agree with your words that it was right, to flee, to protect our loved ones. But how can we protect our friends and family if we cannot even stand up for our own home!"The black cat swung his gaze across the glade, a smirk curling his muzzle. The defiant eyes of many cats glared up at the white tom. _

"_You think I am a coward, then come and fight me!" The white leader hissed. "I will show you I am not foxdung filth like you. That I would not risk my clan for your satisfaction."_

_Yowls filled the clearing. Cats snarled and hissed in outrage up at the white tom – turning easily on their leader .The calm peace of before broken since Blackfang first accused him. Blackfang grinned cruelly up at him. "I would safely say that your clan is not satisfied with you. And I would gladly fight for it – gladly fight a flea bitten coward like you! And when you are dead, I will lead these cats to take back our home." Yowls of agreement rose in the air. _

"_We shall see," the white tom growled, bristling._

_He leapt down, his scorching eyes fixed on Blackfang. The other cats drew back, creating a small ring around the two cats. Blackfang stretched vainly, showing the lean muscles rippling under his shadowy pelt. Then the two cats faced each other, gazes locked, silent snarls carved on their faces. _

_With an explosive roar Blackfang charged forward, claws gleaming unsheathed. The white cat easily dodged, dragging his claws down the black cat's shoulders as he careened past. Spitting Blackfang swung around, circling around the white tom. He merely stood there, his tail twitching. Then Blackfang launched himself again, but leaping into the air before he reached the white cat, seeking to land on his back. The white tom quickly turned fell to the ground, his belly presented to the sky, and Blackfang hit him with a hiss. Snarling, the white cat ripped his claws down Blackfangs stomach and then kicked him away. Blackfang crashed into the ground a good three fox-lengths away, a moan escaped his lips. _

_The white cat padded over to him, placing a paw on his neck. Blackfang spluttered and squirmed as the cats claws dug into his throat, glaring at the white tom with furious eyes. _

"_Is this how you want to end? Blackfang?" The white tom hissed. _

_Then he raised a bloody forepaw, ready to strike the traitorous black tom across the throat. Blackfang clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the blow to hit. But instead he felt fangs sink into to his ear. Screaming the black cat thrashed underneath the white one._

"_Why! Why torture me when you are going to kill me, what type of cat are you now!" Blackfang yowled. The white tom released his ear – a bloody gash torn in the delicate tissue – and looked down at him._

"_Kill you? I am not filth like you, I will not kill you in cold blood. It is wrong, but let this serve as a reminder to you. If you stand against me I will beat you back."_

"_You coward! You are afraid to kill me! Coward!" Blackfang yelled. _

_Suddenly another cat leapt from the crowd, a mottled dusky grey she-cat. The cats surrounding them stayed silent, watching with wide eyes. Snarling she threw herself at the white tom, striking him to the ground. _

"_You are a coward like Blackfang says," she hissed, her eyes glinting wickedly. "You are afraid to kill a traitorous cat like him." The white tom writhed underneath her, but the she-cat was large, pinning him down with her bulk. Blackfang struggled to his paws, a smirk splintering across his muzzle. _

"_Bested by a she-cat!" he mocked._

_With a snarl the grey she-cat whipped around, slashing her claws down Blackfangs throat. Blackfang collapsed with a gurgle, his eyes glazing over. The white tom watched astonished as Blackfang slowly died – the dusty earth hungrily soaking up his crimson blood. _

_Not allowing him the luxury of shock, the she-cat snapped back to him, swiftly clawing his belly. The white tom snarled, kicking upwards with his back legs, but the she-cat leapt free. He tried to rise to his paws but the she-cat knocked him back down, pressing her claws heavily into his back. He felt her jaws rip into his shoulders._

_Hissing he leapt up, and then crashed back down on his back, the she-cat caught under him. But she unsheathed her claws, and he felt them sink hungrily into his flesh – impaling himself on them. The she-cat grunted as his full force landed on her, but squirmed free. But the white cat sunk his jaws into her hind leg before she could get away. Yowling, she swung around and dragged her claws violently down his neck. He recoiled from her, snapping his head back against the ground with a dull 'thud'. _

_There was a bright flash of pain and then he felt himself spiral into unconsciousness. _

That was me, he slowly realised, his mind felling deep and heavy like a sodden rag.

That was me...

What is my name?

"_Palestar,"_ and voice hissed his head, and then he realised it was from the dream.

No not dream, _**memory**_.

"_Maybe I should kill you," _the voice hissed in his ear_. "Like I did that scum Blackfang. But, I like the prospect of leaving you here to suffer. To die slowly."_

Then it howled to something, no... someone. No, everyone._ "My new clan!" it screeched. "I am of Frostclan, and I have defeated you leader." Anxious hushed murmurs filled his head. A few snarls of outrage joined them. _

"_Yes! Did you not notice an enemy was in your midst? Fools hah! And know this, my entire clan surrounds you. If you fail to accept me, they will kill you, All." _

Then he noticed the stench of Frostclan seeping into the air.

Cats whispered frantically, the voice filled his head again._ "Palestar, your clan is mine," _It whispered cruelly into his ear._ "In fact, your clan will never be Beechclan again. Together our clans will just be Frostclan."_

"_Frostclan is turning against Cinderclan, the fools believe that we will share our new won territory with them. And so, it will be Beechclan that will beat them back, It will be the cowards who die for us. We will have your lands and Cinderclans, we will claim the forest."_

No!

"_Those that join us will become one with our clan, the others – those who do not, will be killed. We do not give mercy. We are Frostclan."_

"_Goodbye Palestar," _it then hissed again to him alone.He felt something beat his head heavily to the floor again. Stars blinked in the blackness surrounding him.

And then everything faded away...

...

Sometime during the night, the white tom went still. The black she-cat pawed at him apprehensively, but he did not stir.

"He's gone," she whispered to herself. She stood slowly, gazing sorrowfully down at the white cat's bloodied body.

"I loved you," she murmured softly to him, pressing her nose to his. Suddenly she felt the stir of breath in his chest. With a shudder, he opened his eyes wearily.

"Palestar?"

He extended a trembling paw and touched her foreleg.

"You... stayed," he whispered faintly. "Where is... my clan?"

"Gone..." she hung her head.

"With Frostclan?" he hissed, flinching as it rattled up his ruined throat.

"Yes," she whimpered. "But I managed to hide, I couldn't leave you."

"I thought I was dead."

Pain flashed across the she-cats amber eyes.

"It was my last life..." Ashenstar murmured.

"You won't die," the she-cat snarled softly. "I won't let you, not again."

"Thank...you," Ashenstar whispered weakly before the darkness claimed him again.

...


	2. 2  Sinking

Above the water, her form seemed to warp and waver in the currents. Her long fur curled about her, reaching upward as if reaching out for the sky. But the water dragged her down, her sodden pelt making her even weightier as she sank. Tiny bubbles of air escaped her fur, trailing towards the lakes surface. Something she would never go above again.

But the body was already limp, the eyes already glassy and lifeless,

_Before she began to sink below the surface of the water. _

A high cliff overlooked the lake. A chilly wind screamed above it, the darkening clouds a torrent of motion above the lakes rippling surface. A surface that reflected almost perfect image of the storm above, the only fault a continuous wavering as the gale blew steadily across the water – disrupting the reflection slightly.

But as the winds fury escalated, the reflection seemed to melt away into the water. Squalls of rain began to beat against the lake, millions of crackling dimples forming in it. The she-cats body seemed to disappear into the depths of the lake, the distortion of the water blurring her body.

But in the storm she wasn't alone. A lone figure stood upon the cliffs edge.

A lean ginger tom peered over, his short fur completely sodden. Water dripped from his whiskers.

_I can't believe it, she really did it. _He thought, sorrow numbing his body.

_She really did it, and now's she's gone... forever. _

He remembered the pretty tabby queen, like she had been. A cheerful young she-cat, she was without a care in the world. Until he had came along. And now she was dead.

He felt a flare of anger rip through his body.

"It's all my fault!" he snarled to himself out loud. "I wasn't quick enough, I couldn't save her."

"All my fault," he whispered, echoing the words. He curled inward upon himself, reduced to a quivering heap of water-logged fur. "My fault, my fault..."

He had watched her fall. He had watched her fling herself over the edge, just as he made it to the cliff – she turned to him, her bright eyes dull with sorrow and then she jumped. Just like that, she was gone.

_Her creamy brown fur seemed blaze around her as the wind caught it. Her form dwindling as she raced downward. She was an unrecognisable speck of white when she hit the water. Her body seemed to crash into it as if it was as solid as a stone wall. The soundless crack as she did so seemed to reverberate through his body as he watched. Her bones shattering with the force of it. She cried out – an excruciating shriek of pain. _

_He cried with her, his howl of disbelief softened and shrouded by the wind. _

_Then slowly, lifelessly, she sank below the lakes cruel surface. _

The ginger tom staggered to his paws, shivering not with the cold. He gradually padded to the edge of the cliff in a stunned daze. He felt his paws feel the brink between earth and air; the very wind seemed to call to him – tempting him, luring him.

One thought was clear in the wounded confusion of his mind.

_I should join her_

...

From below Slate watched the ginger tom topple over the cliffs edge, seeming to tumble endlessly before he hit the lakes heaving surface. He gave a cry as he did, and then disappeared in the tumult of the water.

Hissing the powerful grey tom hurled himself into the lake, pushing effortlessly through the water. He had just watched the she-cat die; he wasn't going to let this flea-bitten coward give up too. The water shifted wildly about Slate, he watched it toss the ginger tom about like a plaything. Swimming strongly, Slate closed upon him. The tom lay floating limp in the lakes surface, but the water was slowly sucking his legs under, soon his whole body disappeared. Slate snarled, plunging under. He groped with his claws, they met fur. Clinging to the ginger tom he grabbed his scruff in his jaws and heaved to the surface. He swung around for shore and swam back. The tom was flaccid in his teeth; his chest was still – empty of breath. Soon Slate felt firm ground underneath his paws and he dragged himself from the lake. The ginger tom lay limply on the bank, completely unmoving – one leg sticking out at an odd angle. Slate heaved to his paws, he nudged the tom roughly. The tom remained still, his sodden fur beginning to chill.

"No!" The grey cat snarled, pressing his paws violently against the tom's chest. He felt him shudder, and then wheeze a breath. His eyes fluttered open.

"Is this... Starclan?" he murmured. "Sparrow! Are you here!" he surged forward, gasping as his leg gave way underneath him.

"Does this look like Starclan to you, clan cat?" Slate growled, licking his soaking fur.

"Where am I? Where's Sparrow?"

"First, a damp cold bank. Second, if you're talking about that she-cat who just drowned herself, dead."

The tom shook his head. "I should be dead then!" he hissed. "I want to die."

"No," Slate snarled. "You pathetic cat, afraid to live life through just because you don't have the company of a she-cat."

"I killed her," he growled back. "I should die for what I did to her."

"Did you love her?" Slate growled.

The tom flinched. "Yes," he whispered softly.

"Did she love you?"

"I... I think."

"Then live, for her." Slate hissed.

"I can't," the tom murmured. "I should die." He glanced at the lake again.

"Don't even think about it, I will just drag you back out." Slate warned.

The tom groaned. "Then I will just starve myself, or wait until you leave."

Slate laughed darkly. "Don't think I will just give up then. I won't, even if I have to force feed you."

The tom fixed his dull eyes on the grey cat. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Life is not something you can just throw away," Slate growled gently.

"Everyone dies, we all die."

"Yes, but the best way to die is happily."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"The best way to die, is when... you have been content – when you have lived life to what you can. That and proudly, fighting for something."

"I just want to die."

"Enough with that!" Slate snarled, the tom flinched. "You can't just give up."

The tom stayed silent. His eyes bleakly watching the ground, sorrow flickering though them.

"She did this because of me," he whimpered. "I made her so sad."

Slate simply listened.

"We–" his voice cracked. "We used to be happy. She... had my kits. But life went all went wrong. They died a full moon after they were born." He closed his eyes, a shiver racked through him.

"It was a grey cat... he killed them. And I couldn't protect them. I was too late, just like I was too late for Sparrow."

Slate shook his head, fixing the tom with his gaze. But he remained silent.

"Everyone I loved, my friends, my family. They are all dead."

"No," Slate whispered.

"What?" the tom glanced at him, looking miserable.

"Your whole family is not dead."

The tom watched him for a little while before sighing. "Maybe you are right. My father deserted my mother when I was a kit. But he is not my family. He was never a father to me or for my mother."

Slate seemed to cringe at these words. "What is your name?" He asked suddenly.

"Flame."

"So you are not a clan cat." Slate sounded scarcely surprised.

"What made you think I was?"

"You talked about Starclan before."

"Starclan is not limited just to clan cats, it was something my mother always believed."

"Yes..."

"I am cold," Flame whispered. "But I cannot move, with this leg." He tested the twisted limb awkwardly, giving a hiss of pain. "I think I have broken a rib as well."

Slate padded over to the ginger tom, who watched him suspiciously. His drenched coat bristled as Slate dipped his head over him. Then he growled as Slate clasped his teeth over the ginger tom's scruff. Slate pulled him upward, Flame gasped as his leg jostled against the ground.

"Don't wail will you." Slate grumbled through a mouthful of fur.

Flame clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowed. "I never–" he gritted his teeth as Slate began dragging him over the bank. "Never caught your name."

Slate remained silent for a time before answering. "I was Smokefang, but now I am Slate."

"Smokefa–" Flame winced again. "–ng. The name... it's familiar."

"I thought it might be," Slate murmured quietly to himself.

"You were a clan cat too."

"Too?"

"My mother was formerly one."

"I see."

"Where, where are we going?" Flame hissed quietly as his leg brushed against a fallen branch. They were moving into the beginning of a forest, firs growing thickly. Their delicate needles coating the forest floor in a prickly blanket. Slate considered the question for a moment, and then answered,

"To my home."

...

**Just made it to 1500 words...**

**There is a secret between Slate and Flame. It's rather obvious though. **


End file.
